


Ramen

by ghostsjogging, xxFeuerFrei



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Fluff, Genji is more than happy to take the lead, Jesse can't use chopsticks, M/M, playboy genji
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 18:16:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11064495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostsjogging/pseuds/ghostsjogging, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxFeuerFrei/pseuds/xxFeuerFrei
Summary: Blackwatch Jesse is on a mission in Hanamura. Well, that is until he runs into a cute local at the ramen shop. What Gabe doesn't know won't hurt him.





	Ramen

**Author's Note:**

> An anon on tumblr asked for fluff and, well, here it is!

To say that jet lag could be a bitch was an understatement. Only two days into his Japan-based mission and Jesse could feel the overwhelming urge to doze every afternoon when the sun was high and the clocks rang 15:00. Finally free from his mind-numbing daily duties while training under Reyes, the night is young and Jesse has a pocketful of yen to do with however he pleases. Reyes wouldn't necessarily like him wandering out on his own but he also couldn't stop him. Maybe comin' home with sweets will win him over, Jesse muses to himself, I mean the guy's gotta like somethin' right?

The smell of ramen wafting through the bustling alley pulls him from his sleepy deliberations, twisting his stomach into noisy knots until his sore feet are shuffling toward the smell. An open door complete with a white and red noren hanging in the entryway is the source of his newfound desires, and he makes haste getting inside. The space is dimly lit, emboldening Jesse's weariness, but the smell alone is keeping him awake. There are few packed tables placed haphazardly about the floor, the restaurant surprisingly cramped, and Jesse can feel eyes following him; he is, after all, a lumbering and strange white man in an assumedly niche ramen bar. 

A flash of green catches his eye, and the bold colour belongs to a slumped over figure, sitting beside an empty space at the bar. Bingo. Glad to be out of the centre of the room, Jesse tucks himself into the empty seat and drums his fingers along the bar, trying to make heads or tails of the menu plastered on the wall across from him. Despite his focus on filling his hungry belly, he was feeling his curiosity grow stronger, and his eyes were sliding to the side to observe the green-haired person, feeling some sort of relief upon realising this crumpled guy is awake. Alive. The bottle of liquor beside the stranger's empty ramen bowl pique his interest, leaving him laughing softly to himself.

"I think I need whatever this guy's drinkin’..." Jesse whispers to himself. He’s already trying, and failing, to grab the attention of the man behind the bar. And then the not-quite-passed out man grumbles. 

“Bring the man a drink.” His voice is crisp and clear. Jesse doesn’t know what he’s saying, he doesn’t speak Japanese and he told Gabe this, told him he wouldn’t be any help on the mission. But then the green haired man shifts to his elbow, sitting up halfway, leaning his chin in his palm. His eyes are cloudy and grey. Like he’s been sitting here for awhile. But they’re endless and they remind Jesse of rain. He misses rain. The man loosens the tie around his neck. Jesse doesn’t know anything about suits, he’s never owned one, but it fits his slender shoulders and his tall neck and his thin upper lip. The jacket is black and the tie is black and it looks like he’s come from a funeral. Maybe that’s why he’s drinking so much. 

“Sake is all right? You look more like a Budweiser man.” The man smiles, a soft chuckle escaping his lips at his own joke, “They have Sapporo on tap.” There’s a pause. The man appraises Jesse’s blank expression, and then, You don’t speak Japanese.” His accent is too heavy to properly annunciate. 

The chef brings the Jesse a cup and pours him a glass of sake from the bottle already on the counter. He places another steaming bowl of ramen in front of the green haired man and he breaks pair of chopsticks to begin eating. Jesse stares again. It looks good. It smells good. Everyone is slurping the broth and his stomach growls. “You want noodles?” The man waves his hand, holding two fingers above his head, “Another bowl for the cowboy!” His voice is muffled by a mouthful of nori and fishcake. He crumples his posture, both elbows on the counter, slurping his ramen, “You and that shirt are a long way from home.”

Jesse can feel his cheeks burning but he doesn’t know why he’s embarrassed. His brows set with determination as he watches with mildly hidden awe as the man beside him navigates seemingly effortlessly between languages. "Cheeky sun of a gun, aren't ya?" The kid has spunk— and now that Jesse can see his face he knows he’s a kid and not a man— and that's enough to gather his attention and remind him that maybe he was a bit out of his element. “Thanks for helpin' me out. The name's Jesse. I can call you...?" He trails off, brows raised as a hopeful look fills his expression with earnest. 

“Jesse.” He tries the name on his tongue, tastes how it feels. “Jesse?” He tries again, voice dropping an octave. The green haired man rolls his tongue, “Jesse.” It’s closer, that time. The vowel sound escaping his accent. Jesse tilts his head, lips cracking into a smile as this kid tries out his name a few times. It was... Oddly charming. Really charming, actually. 

“My name’s Genji,” he says and takes another bite of food. “And you’re welcome. He probably wasn’t going to ever serve you.”

A bowl of ramen is placed in front of Jesse and he retrieves his chopsticks. He splits them down the middle and they splinter. He winces, tries to lay them together. “You could call it an adventure.” An adventure that’s going swiftly downhill with these chopsticks. Jesse inhales the smell, fragrant, meaty, smells like pork or maybe chicken or apple.

”Hey, uh," he snickers, holding the chopsticks up— one in each hand— “Care to show me? Well." he gestured vaguely before making a genuine attempt at holding them correctly, awkwardly clicking them together out of sync, his frame leaning in slowly. "Not very good at it." He whispers, the smile still tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

Genji laughs and angles his body welcomingly towards the other, “No, you’re not.” 

Genji holds his own chopsticks, snapping them together, demonstrating how to pick up a single noodle, “It’s important not to cross them in the back. Slot this one between your ring finger against the base of your thumb.” Jesse fumbles and Genji laughs, “You open them with your middle finger. They come to a point.” Genji dips his chopsticks into the bowl sitting in front of Jesse, holding a slice of pork to his mouth, “You’re terrible.” 

Jesse is feeling genuine surprise Genji is matching his flirtations with bold action of his own. He isn't sure of Genji's intentions, and Jesse's face is too honest to hide the fact that he is conflicted and very pleased. Though tentative at first, Jesse plays along with an undeserved sense of accomplishment as he gingerly takes the offered food into his mouth. He holds eye contact with Genji for a moment longer before losing his nerve, chewing the pork slowly. 

Genji demonstrates his chopsticks again but McCree is barely able to pick a few bean sprouts from the bowl. “You haven’t been in Japan very long.” It’s more of a statement than a question. Genji takes a bite of his own ramen before setting his utensils aside, leaning over the counter and fishing a spoon from the tray. “This is the closest you’re going to get to a fork,” he hands it to McCree, his fingertips tracing over the inside of Jesse’s wrist as he pulls away. “It’s okay,” Genji turns back to his food. “I’m used to—“ he clicks his tongue, “What’s the word? Steering, pitching?”

Just as he goes to take a sip of sake, Jesse snorts in surprise, the alcohol half searing up his sinuses He turns to Genji with a hand over his mouth as he struggles through a laugh with a look of surprise. "What?" he asks, hand now dropping to reveal a huge smile, "Are you tryin' ta tell me what I think you are?" Score. 

Genji looks up from his ramen with a grin. He shifts forward, leaning his weight on his elbow, “I’m not telling you anything. What brings you to Hanamura?” 

Jesse half shrugs his shoulders, "I'm here on a business trip. I just wanted to get some time to myself. Explore a little without my boss givin' me a hard time.” He needs to change the subject. "Why you hangin' 'round in here lookin' like you're havin' a bad night?" Jesse counters, leaning against the counter and watching Genji's face with unabashed attention. "Thought you mighta been dead when I sat next to you." 

Genji laughs. It’s a low noise, self-deprecating, erupting from his lungs as if it’s torn from him. Jesse almost winces. Genji reaches for another glass of sake and knocks it back before refilling Jesse’s cup, “Not a particularly bad night. A typical night, actually.” And then he continues like it hurts. “A fight with my brother. I’m hiding out.” In response to Jesse’s dejected look and grumbling stomach, Genji raises his chopsticks again, noodles caught properly, to McCree lips. “He’s kind of my boss.” 

"So, we're both hidin'." Jesse comments before he accepts the food. 

“Maybe ramen wasn’t the best choice for you,” Genji laughs again and Jesse sees his big teeth. Too big for his mouth and pearly white. “There’s a rice ball stand around the corner.” 

"Fuck it." Jesse decides, pulling the small wad of yen out of his pocket, counting it out and leaving on the table what he is sure is more than enough. He turns to Genji, his smile a lot less challenging, but a little more kind. "Wanna go get some of them rice balls and forget about our bosses?" He offers, fingers fidgeting underneath the bar, giving away the edge nervousness he feels with the suggestion.


End file.
